


Optimism Will Only Carry You So Far

by bevinkathryn



Series: Pole Dancing AU [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Pole Dancing AU, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevinkathryn/pseuds/bevinkathryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin finally meets Uther, who may or may not be pleased with his son's pole dancing journalist boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Optimism Will Only Carry You So Far

**Author's Note:**

> I usually try not to repeat dancers in the reference videos, but Anastasia Skukhtorova is my favourite dancer. And it was had to find one that fit what I had in mind this time around--no one's music was quite right for our Merlin. :)
> 
> Read on [my lj](http://silverwings2020.livejournal.com/5173.html).

“Wonderful dinner as usual, Uther.  I expect I will be seeing you again soon.  You as well, Arthur.”  
  
Arthur plastered his business smile onto his face when Bayard glanced his way.  Usually Bayard was one of Arthur’s favourites of Uther’s business partners, but today had been long and Arthur was tired.  On top of that was Bayard’s creepy secretary who had also been brought along, and who kept looking at Arthur with a strange, hungry look in her scarily blue eyes.  It was with no small amount of relief that Arthur saw them to the door, sharing one last drink in his father’s study before escaping to his car and pulling out his mobile.  
  
For a moment, he didn’t think Merlin was going to answer, but just as it was about to go to voicemail, he heard Merlin’s breathy, “Arthur?”  
  
“Hi,” he said slowly.  Merlin sounded rushed, as if he’d had to scramble for the phone.  “Sorry if this is a bad time.”  
  
“No, no it’s fine.”  There was a soft rustling sound, as if Merlin was shifting through papers.  “I was just doing some last edits on an article and didn’t hear the phone.  Are you alright?  You sound shit.”  
  
“Just got out of dinner with my father,” Arthur said tiredly.  
  
“…oh,” Merlin said a little too carefully.  “You could come over, if you want.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Come on over, Arthur,” Merlin insisted gently.  So Arthur started his car and drove the half hour out to Merlin’s flat.  He was greeted at the door by Merlin, wearing old jeans and a hoodie, with glasses perched on the edge of his nose.  He looked hopelessly like a uni student, and Arthur couldn’t hold back a smile as he stepped inside.  
  
“You’re just in time, I’ve just sent my article off.  Now I’m all yours.”  
  
“All mine?” Arthur said, letting his eyes drag up Merlin’s body.  “I can think of worse things.”  
  
He was rewarded with a smile, and then was promptly hustled off to change into more comfortable clothes.  When he reemerged Merlin was cuddled up on the couch with a book, and Arthur hovered for a moment before Merlin rolled his eyes and said, “Just come here, you tit,” and opened his arms.  
  
“Idiot,” Arthur shot back, and Merlin laughed at him as he slid into place.  There’s silence, not quite comfortable but not really tense either, and then Merlin tilted his head and Arthur obliged him with a kiss, slow and easy.  Merlin’s hands are in his hair when they eventually separate, but they trail down to rub his shoulders when he speaks.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
“Not yet,” Arthur shook his head.  “It’s not—can we just watch a movie, or something, first?”  
  
Merlin smiled again, and gave him a quick peck.  “Of course.  My choice, though.”  
  
Arthur made a point of rolling his eyes and groaning, even though they both knew he didn’t really care.  Merlin just smiled at him sweetly while he popped the DVD into the player, and then flopped into the space beside Arthur, feet resting in his lap.  Arthur let his hands rest against the skin of Merlin’s ankles while they watched the movie, some mindless romantic comedy that Merlin had obviously seen far too many times.  He kept leaning forward in anticipation of a joke, sometimes bursting into laughter before the punch line had quite finished.  It might’ve been annoying, if it hadn’t been  _Merlin_ , so Arthur just rolled his eyes and poked Merlin until he settled again.  
  
By the end of the movie, they’re sitting back-to-front with Merlin firmly bundled into Arthur’s arms.  
  
“He’s going to go after her, isn’t he?” Arthur predicted, eyeing the main character as he stared moodily at a photograph.  “Except she’s going to be with the other guy.”  
  
“Not telling.”  
  
“He is, I can tell.  And then he’ll make some passably amusing reference to an old joke and they’ll kiss and live happily ever after.”  
  
“Not.  Telling,” Merlin repeated with a small laugh, nudging his foot against Arthur’s ankle.  “Just watch for yourself.”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur whinged, but shut up with a smirk when Merlin just slapped his arm and shushed him.  That lasted five minutes before the main character adopted a determined look and tore out of his apartment to chase the love of his life, and Arthur said, “Knew it.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes.  “Yes, well done.  You predicted the ending of every romantic comedy ever.”  
  
“It’s a gift.”  
  
“God, shut up,” Merlin laughed, “or you’ll miss the heartfelt reunion.”  
  
“I am a sucker for last-minute wooing.”  
  
They are, of course, not disappointed in the reality, which has enough puns and moony-eyed actors to reduce Arthur to sniggers and while Merlin pretends to scold him while fighting his own smirk.  Finally, the screen faded to black and the credits began to roll.  Merlin made no move to turn it off, letting the poppy theme tune play on as he shifted to face Arthur, drawing absent lines in his arm.  
  
“Are you sufficiently distracted?”  
  
“I suppose,” Arthur replied, making a face.  “We’re talking now, aren’t we.”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
Arthur sighed and let his eyes fall shut.  He felt Merlin shifting again, letting his hands trail up to thread into Arthur’s hair.  
  
“Arthur, really, what is it?  You look like…like someone died, or—“  
  
“It’s not that bad,” Arthur assured him, opening his eyes in time to catch the look of relief flicker over Merlin’s face.  “It’s not bad at all, really.”  
  
Merlin nudged Arthur’s shoulder.  “Then what is it?”  
  
“My father wants to meet you,” Arthur blurted, rushed and not at all how Arthur had planned on saying it.  
  
He glanced at Merlin, who looked surprised and perhaps a bit reluctant.  He didn’t say anything at first, just stood and went to turn off the telly, biting his lip.  Arthur let him, knowing Merlin would speak when he was ready.  
  
“You don’t have to do this is you don’t want to, Arthur,” Merlin finally said, still looking down at the DVD in his hand.  They’d fought about this.  Merlin had been confused and hurt by Arthur’s reluctance to introduce him to his father, even though Arthur had met Merlin’s mum months ago, and Arthur had been awkward and terrified that Uther would chase Merlin away, purposefully or no.  His father was a good man, and a decent father, but he was also stubborn and a bit snobbish and Arthur had no delusions that he’d be pleased with Arthur dating a lower classed, pole-dancing journalist.  In the end Merlin had shouted and Arthur had sneered and neither of them had spoken to the other for three days before Arthur called with an awkward apology and neither of them had mentioned it again.  But that had only been a few days ago, and Arthur knew Merlin was still disappointed with his excuses.  
  
“I do want to.”  Merlin did look at Arthur then, a hint of disbelief in his eyes.  “Really.  I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.”  
  
Merlin snorted and finally walked back towards the sofa.  “Right, yeah, that’s true.  You’re too stubborn for that.”  He dodged Arthur’s swat easily and dove back into Arthur’s arms.  Arthur planted a kiss into his hair.  
  
“Is that a yes?”  
  
“Mmm, I suppose.  If I must,” Merlin replied, laughing at Arthur’s groan.  
  
“You are insufferable.  No, I’ve changed my mind, I’ll just ring Father and tell him it’s all off—“  
  
“Don’t you dare!” Merlin laughed, pinning Arthur back against the sofa when he made to stand.  Arthur allowed it easily.  Merlin smiled down at him.  “Thank you for doing this.  I promise not to do something stupid and get you disowned or beheaded or whatever you rich people do to each other these days.”  Arthur laughed.  
  
“Highly unlikely, anyway.  Beheadings are just so unfashionable these days,” he said and kissed Merlin before he could say anything in return.  Merlin did, anyway, a muffled “Prat” before he let Arthur have his way.

 

\---

In a stroke of either genius or stupidity Arthur managed to convince Uther to host dinner in his own home.  This had both the advantage of avoiding either Merlin or Arthur’s flats, and the disadvantage of the lack of public etiquette a restaurant provided if things went pear-shaped.  Not that Arthur thought they would.  At least not that he was admitting, anyway.  
  
“Wow.  You grew up here?” Merlin said as they pulled up the drive to Uther’s home.  “It looks like the one of the manors they used to make us visit on school trips.”  
  
“Don’t exaggerate,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur replied.  The house  _was_  on the larger side, but it was a perfectly reasonable size nonetheless.  And after an entire childhood spent exploring it, Arthur knew every inch.  “It’s only got two more bedrooms than your mum’s place.”  
  
“Yeah, except mum’s rooms are the size of a postage stamp.”  
  
Arthur, wisely, said nothing, killing the engine and stepping out of the car instead.  Merlin followed, and together they walked to the door.  Merlin shifted nervously on the doorstep, and his hand was shaking slightly when Arthur reached for it.  
  
"It'll be fine," Arthur said firmly, squeezing Merlin hand.  "Optimism, Merlin."  
  
Merlin's smile was tight and less than reassuring, but before Arthur could say anything else the door swung open and Uther’s obnoxious butler blinked down at them.  
  
“Welcome home, Master Arthur,” George simpered, ushering them inside.  “Your father is in his sitting room.  Shall I escort you?”  
  
“No, thank you, George.  I’m sure we’ll manage,” Arthur said, ignoring the goggle-eyed look Merlin was giving them.  George inclined his head.  
  
“As you wish.  Dinner will be served shortly.”  
  
“Wow,” Merlin said the moment George was out of earshot, “an actual butler.  I thought they just made them up for films.  Isn’t he supposed to be wearing a waistcoat and having a wild affair with a scullery maid?”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, this isn’t a period drama.  Besides, George is mainly just here to keep things tidy.  He just…takes his job a bit seriously,” Arthur said as he led the way down the hall.  Merlin snorted but let the subject drop, probably because Arthur had led them to a stop outside a closed door.  His hand, still in Arthur’s, suddenly gripped even harder.  Arthur gave him a comforting smile and knocked once.  
  
“Enter,” a curt voice called, and Arthur obeyed. The study was as austere as always, bookshelves and objet d’art circling the massive desk set squarely in the center.  Uther stood when they entered, and extended his hand.  
  
“Hello, Father,” Arthur greeted, letting go of Merlin’s hand to shake Uther’s.  Uther smiled at him.  
  
“Arthur.  And you must be Merlin.”  
  
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Merlin said immediately, offering his own hand.  “Arthur’s told me so much about you.”  
  
“Likewise.”  Uther’s tone was polite, if not overly welcoming, but he managed a smile as they shook hands.  “I was just reading an article of yours in the  _Camelot Times_.  You have a talent with words.”  
  
“Oh—thank you, sir,” Merlin blushed, and Arthur felt a rush of pride for him.  He slid an arm around his waist, and Merlin relaxed just slightly into it.  Uther opened his mouth, but George chose that moment to reappear.  
  
“Dinner is served, sirs,” he announced with a bow (Merlin quickly turned his snort into a cough).  Uther nodded.  
  
“Very well.  Thank you, George.  Let’s eat, shall we?”

 

\---

“Delicious as always, Hilda.  I think we’ll break out the good wine for dessert, as celebration.”  
  
The cook, Hilda, nodded at Uther’s instructions as she whisked away the dirty plates.  Merlin sat a bit stiffly in his seat, trying to look as if this was normal.  Dinner had gone better than expected.  Uther had, predictably, drilled Merlin with questions, with Arthur jumping in occasionally when he saw Merlin getting uncomfortable, but on the whole Merlin had handled it wonderfully.  Arthur could see that his father was satisfied, at least, with his responses.  But there was still a stiff look on Merlin’s face, like he was waiting for something to happen.  Under the table Arthur found Merlin’s foot with his and nudged it.  The ghost of a smile flickered across Merlin’s face, and he pressed back.  
  
“Now, Merlin, Arthur tells me you’re from a rather small village.”  
  
“Yeah—yes, sir,” Merlin answers dutifully.  “Ealdor.”  
  
“I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”  
  
“Not many people have.  It’s mostly farms.”  
  
“I see,” Uther nodded, sipping from his newly filled wine glass.  “London must be quite a change.”  Merlin smiled a little awkwardly.  He didn’t point out that he’d lived in London for several years already, and Uther had already grown bored of the subject anyway.  “Tell me, Arthur, have you seen much of that Lancelot fellow lately?”  
  
Arthur nodded.  “We had a match just this past weekend against Mercia.”  
  
“Ah yes, I forgot you still played,” Uther said with a somewhat nostalgic smile, and turned to Merlin.  “Do you ever play, Merlin?”

Merlin snorted, and made a valiant effort to play it off as a cough.  “No, sir.”  
  
“No?  You must do something, you’re quite in shape for a journalist.”  
  
“O-oh,” Merlin stuttered.  There was a blush beginning on his cheeks, but his voice was steady when he said, “I dance.”  
  
“Dance?  What discipline?  I’ve always enjoyed the ballet myself,” Uther remarked.  “Unless you’re a modern type.  Jazz, perhaps?”  
  
“Um,” Merlin began, throwing Arthur a questioning glance.  He knew Arthur was entirely supportive of his dancing, but he also knew that Uther was old-fashioned.  Arthur knew with that one glance that Merlin was prepared to lie if Arthur wanted him to.  He hesitated, but finally shrugged in a clear ‘might as well’ gesture.  Merlin beamed gratefully at him, before turning back to Uther.  “Actually, I’m a pole dancer.”  
  
To say Uther was taken aback would have been a complete understatement.  He was far too well-bred to actually spit out his mouthful of wine, but he did freeze, staring at Merlin as though he was trying to re-arrange the words he said into something more acceptable.  Merlin stared back, still pink-cheeked but unashamed.  
  
“It really is remarkable, Father,” Arthur put in casually to draw Uther’s attention.  “The dancers are as much athletes as any football player.”  (Merlin smiled at him for that one.)  “Merlin’s studio is lucky to have him.  He is very talented.”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure he has many…talents,” Uther bit out, and it was Merlin’s turn to freeze, cheeks flaming now.  
  
“Yes, the studio is very varied,” Arthur cut in hastily.  "Most he dancers have backgrounds in gymnastics.  It's becoming a very popular sport—they even do charity events.  It’s how Merlin and I met.”  
  
Uther’s eyes fell closed as if in prayer.  Merlin, when Arthur looked at him, had a resigned look on his face, and Arthur immediately felt horrible for putting it there.  
  
“Of course, I wouldn’t have waited nearly as long as I did to ask him out if I’d known then how delicious his mother’s cooking was,” Arthur said with false cheer.  “What was it she cooked for us, Merlin?  
  
“Arancini and manicotti,” Merlin answered automatically.  There was another moment of painfully awkward silence, and then Uther straightened, adopted his business face, and looked at Merlin.  
  
“Is your family Italian?”  
  
“No, Welsh.  Our neighbors were Italian, though…”  
  
Dessert passed in awkward, too-slow bursts of conversation.  None of them dallied eating like they had at dinner.  Merlin looked miserable, torn between indignation and embarrassment.  Arthur kept his foot pressed firmly against Merlin’s the entire time, brushing his toes against Merlin’s shoe every so often just to coax a fleeting smile onto Merlin’s face.  Finally, Uther called for Hilda, and their plates were cleared away.  
  
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t invite you for a nightcap,” Uther said once they’d wandered into the hall.  “I fear it will be an early night for me.”  
  
“Of course, Father,” Arthur replied, and Merlin said nothing at all.  “Thank you for inviting us.”  
  
“The pleasure was mine.  It was a delight meeting you, Merlin,” Uther continued, just barely managing to suppress the sour look on his face.  
  
“Likewise, sir,” Merlin said shortly, and turned for the door.  Arthur stepped after him, and paused.  
  
“Just a second.  Merlin, you go on ahead,” he said.  “Father, might I have a quick word?”  
  
“What is it, Arthur?” Uther asked once the door had closed behind Merlin.  Arthur frowned at him.  
  
“You shouldn’t have treated Merlin like that.”  
  
“I was nothing but cordial to the boy,” Uther sniffed.  
  
“Like hell you were.  You looked down your nose at him the instant you found out he was a dancer,” Arthur said, irritated at his father’s carelessness.  
  
“Well what did you expect?  Honestly, Arthur, I thought you’d grown out of that phase after university, and then you bring  _him_ —“  
  
“Merlin isn’t a stripper, for Christ’s sake,” Arthur barked.  “And even if he was, you have no right to judge.  He’s an athlete, and he’s my partner, and I’d appreciate it if you would treat him like a human being.  Father.”  
  
Uther pinched the bridge of his nose, like he’d done when Arthur had been a teenager arguing over an unfair curfew.  “This isn’t the time for this discussion, Arthur.  You are an adult and can make your own decisions, but give me a few days to adjust at least.”  
  
“Fine,” Arthur said stiffly, knowing that was as good as it would get tonight.  “Thank you for dinner.  I’ll see you on Monday, Father.”  
  
It was already dark outside, but Arthur had plenty of light to see by from the headlights of his car.  He was aware of Merlin’s eyes tracking him as he slid into the driver’s seat, but said nothing until he was buckled in.  
  
“That…didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped,” he said, eyes closed.  Merlin snorted.  
  
“You could say that.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “I really didn’t expect him to do that.”  
  
“I did,” Merlin replied, shrugging.  “I’m used to it.”  He toyed with the cuff of his jumper, biting his lip.  “I’m sorry he hates me.”  
  
“Hey,” Arthur said softly, hooking his finger under Merlin’s chin to get him to look up, “stop that.  He doesn’t hate you, I promise.  He was just…surprised.”  Merlin snorted again, but allowed Arthur to lean in for a soft kiss.  “Don’t worry about it, Merlin.  I love you, alright?”  
  
Merlin lips quirked up at the corners.  “Yeah.  Alright.”  
  
“Good.”  He kissed Merlin again, deeper this time, until he felt some of the tension leave Merlin’s body.  He pulled back, and smiled.  “Let’s go.”  
  
Merlin’s flat was closest, so Arthur drove there.  Aithusa meowed a greeting to them from where he sat on the hall table when they stumbled inside.  Merlin scratched his head absently as he kicked off his shoes and made his way across the flat in the dark.  Arthur followed a little slower, and Merlin was already lying face down on the bed when he reached the bedroom.  
  
“Budge up,” Arthur said, nudging Merlin’s leg until he grumbled and made room.  He crawled up beside Merlin, leaving a trail of kisses up his spine, pressing the last one behind the shell of his ear.  Merlin let out a soft sigh.  
  
“You’re being snuggly.”  
  
“You’re being sulky,” Arthur retorted, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist.  Merlin turned his head to glare at him with one eye.  
  
“Arthur.”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes.  Arthur kissed him, gently.  “Come on, lets’ get these clothes off.”  
  
Merlin didn’t protest, but he made no move to help, either.  Arthur stripped him slowly, tossing his shirt aside first and then reaching for his socks.  He held Merlin’s ankle once he’d divested him of his trousers, and pressed a tiny, barely-there kiss to its bone.  Merlin sighed again, but there was a smile on his face as he stretched his arms towards Arthur.  
  
Arthur covered Merlin’s body with his own and let his weight press down.  Merlin sprinkled a flurry of kisses to Arthur’s lips, until Arthur cradled his face and drew him in for a proper one.  He bit down gently on Merlin’s lip and then smoothed his tongue over the spot.  Merlin moaned quietly.  His hands came up to work the buttons of Arthur’s shirt open, but instead of sliding it off he just pressed his palms against Arthur’s chest.  His thumbs brushed along his skin, and Arthur shivered at the slight tickle of it.  He sucked at Merlin’s jaw in retaliation, and won a huff of startled laughter for his efforts, which he sought again and again with alternating bites and kisses to Merlin’s skin until it was flushed and Merlin laughed out a breathless, “Arthur!”  
  
“Come here,” he went on, finally hauling Arthur’s shirt over his shoulders.  Arthur let his eyes close when Merlin rubbed his growing erection through his trousers.  He could feel Merlin’s matching one against his thigh, so he pulled gently away to remove his own trousers while Merlin slid off his pants.  They kissed again, and Arthur rolled them over just to feel Merlin’s naked body move with his.  
  
“What do you want?” he asked, brushing Merlin’s hair back from his face.  
  
“Hmm.  Slow.  And you inside me,” Merlin purred, shifting his hips to drag along Arthur’s cock teasingly.  
  
“I can do that,” Arthur agreed.  
They separated with one last kiss.  Arthur settled back against the pillows while Merlin fetched the lube.  He returned, straddling Arthur’s legs, and kissed him as he reached back to finger himself.  Arthur braced his hands on Merlin’s thighs when Merlin began swaying forward, breath hitching ever so slightly.  One of his hands crept around to where Merlin’s fingers were pressed inside his hole.  He traced the rim with a fingertip, making Merlin shiver and push back a little.  
  
“Ready?” Arthur asked when Merlin’s breathing had evened out somewhat.  Merlin nodded.  
  
“Yeah,” he sighed, and Arthur used his grip of Merlin’s waist to roll them over again.  Merlin stretched out on the mattress as Arthur slicked his cock quickly, and guided the head towards Merlin’s hole.  He pushed without pressing inside, and pulled back to do it again.  Merlin’s hole clenched down on air with every kiss of Arthur’s cock.  It wasn’t long before Merlin’s muscles were jumping from the tease, and his voice was strained when he bit out, “Arthur…”  
  
“You said you wanted slow,” Arthur replied, but he took pity and finally slid inside.  
  
He gave himself a few thrusts to enjoy the feeling of his bare cock inside Merlin, still novel after only a few weeks.  Then he forced himself to stop, holding himself still with just his cockhead still inside.  Merlin whinged a complaint but Arthur ignored him and slid slowly, slowly,  _slowly_  back in.  Merlin’s jaw dropped open in a silent moan.  Arthur did it again.  The pace was pure torture, but Merlin’s face made it so, so worth it.  His face contorted in pleasure with each drag of Arthur’s cock, and his hands hooked behind his knees to spread them as far as they would go and let Arthur get deeper.  
  
Suddenly, Arthur desperately needed to kiss him, so he did.  He leaned forward with a quick thrust, and Merlin’s eyes flew open at the sudden change.  
  
“Oh,” he keened tightly.  Arthur kissed him before he could say another word and gave another hard push, drinking up Merlin’s moan.  “Yeah, Arthur.”  
  
That was all the permission Arthur needed to speed up the pace just slightly.  He kept his body close to Merlin’s to feel the way he tensed every time Arthur threw in a random, fast thrust.  His toes were curled into the sheets near Arthur’s thighs now, with one hand in Arthur’s hair and the other on his shoulder.  Arthur could feel his cock between their bellies, practically soaked with precome, and weaseled a hand between them to wrap around it.  Merlin tugged his hair in surprise and didn’t let go as Arthur fisted him.  There wasn’t a chance in hell that Arthur was going to last much longer, so he let his thrusts get a little sharper and more selfish, until he screwed his eyes shut, and came.  
  
Merlin was panting beneath him, eyes a little wild with the need to come, but Arthur was far too blissed out to manage more than wrapping his hand around Merlin’s cock.  He pushed at Merlin’s hip until he got the message and began thrusting into it.  Arthur leaned in to kiss the hollow of his throat as Merlin chased his release, and Merlin keened desperately, coming all over Arthur’s hand.  Arthur kept pumping his cock to wring out the last of his orgasm, until Merlin squirmed and whimpered in discomfort.  Arthur pulled off but didn’t go far, more than content to drape himself over Merlin’s sated body and kiss.  
  
“Mmm.  We’re disgusting,” Merlin said eventually.  Arthur hummed.  
  
“We are,” he agreed, and made absolutely no move to do anything about it.  Merlin laughed into their kiss, wriggling his hips.  
  
“Arthur, seriously, I’m not sleeping with come all over me.”  
  
“Why not?” Arthur purred, nosing along Merlin’s jaw.  “I kinda like it.”  He reached down to slide a finger into Merlin’s hole, still wet with his come and hot from his cock.  Merlin’s breath hitched.  
  
“Randy boy.  And your father was concerned about you dating a pole dancer.”  
  
Arthur groaned and buried his face in Merlin’s neck.  “Never, ever bring up my father when I have my finger in your arse again.  I’ll develop a complex.”  Merlin giggled and snuggled up against him, completely unrepentant.  Arthur wrapped his arms around him, and they stayed that way until they fell asleep.

 

\---

It’s probably a testament to just how much time Merlin had been spending at Arthur’s lately that his kitchen was nearly empty.  They managed to track down beans and toast, and they ate it on the couch in their boxers like uni students.  Arthur point blank refused to do the same for lunch, though, so he volunteered himself for a Waitrose run (even though Tesco was nearer, it also had the grandmotherly employee who tended to frown at him in a way which made Arthur run to a mirror to check for love bites).  When he returned, Merlin was nowhere to be seen, but Arthur could hear music playing from the depths of the flat, so he silently made his way towards the guest bedroom, not even bothering to put the groceries away first.  
  
[Merlin](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bLo4S_SDFQ) was spinning gently around the pole, the bulge of his muscles the only sign of strain as he spun easily around.  He didn’t even bother jumping down before going straight into the next move, letting his body’s momentum move him.  It wasn’t his current competition routine, or any routine that Arthur was familiar with.  As far as he could tell it was just Merlin, moving however he felt with the music.   
  
Arthur settled against the door to watch.  Merlin hadn’t noticed him yet, and Arthur didn’t want him to.  Merlin was gorgeous when he danced.  He was gorgeous all the time (Arthur had even told him so once, in great detail, when he’d been very, very drunk), but when he danced, he put everything on display.  You could see the strength running through his body usually hidden under baggy clothes, and the pure confidence that came with being completely in control, and it was only sensual in the sense that it was so stunning to watch.  Merlin’s body was on display, sure, but it was entirely secondary to the pure athleticism that he exhibited with every move.  
  
How anyone could think that this was anything but beautiful, Arthur didn’t know.  
  
He waited until the song had ended and Merlin had jumped down to catch his breath before he cleared his throat to make his presence known.  Merlin started, but smiled when he saw it was just Arthur.  
  
“That was fast.  Did you cave and go to Tesco?”  
  
“And have Alice cluck at me?  No, I went to Waitrose.”  Merlin laughed, moving over to the futon to pick up a napping Aithusa.  Arthur brandished his bag of spoils.  “I got that soup you like.”  
  
“Brilliant,” Merlin said, turning to smile at him with an armful of sleepy cat.  He puttered towards Arthur to peer into the bag, and beamed delightedly when he saw what was in it.  “Jaffa cakes?  You  _must_  love me.”  
  
Arthur smiled, because yeah, he really did.  “For some reason,” he agreed, and readily returned the kiss Merlin pulled him into.


End file.
